Today in History

Today is my birthday, which should be history enough...yet I just have to add these few little odd bits of information; things that supposedly also happened on the 28th.

Although I have not be able to find out any info on this important moment, in 1820 the tomato was supposedly proved nonpoisonous.

The tomato is native to South America but it appears the Aztecs were the first to actually cultivated it. We even get the name tomato from them, "tomatl." A member of the nightshade family, it is related to potato, eggplant, tobacco, chili peppers and the poisonous (and hallucinogenic) belladonna. It was probably Cortez who brought the tomato to Spain and the Mediterranean. It was being cultivated there by 1540, and by 1692 turned up in recipes. With Spain's expansion into the world the tomato made it's way into Asia. With all that evidence of being edible you'd think the English and other Europeans would have gotten that it wasn't poisonous. Sometimes those Europeans are kind of slow. It was actually being cultivated in England by the 1590s but, because of it's family background, was only used for decorative purposes. However by the mid 1700s even the British had taken to eating tomatoes. Thomas Jefferson grew them after the Revolution and they showed up in New Orleans around 1812. But it was probably the arrival of Italians into the U. S. that put the tomato on the map, returning it to it's native hemisphere after several hundred years wandering the world. Only then did it find a lasting and endearing place in North American cuisine. Did you know the leaves of the tomato are poisonous?

In 1838 Queen Victoria was crowned.

In 1939 Pan Am (how many of you remember Pan Am or actually flew Pan Am? I do and did) opened a transatlantic route. On an interesting side note, Charles Lindbergh flew around the Caribbean and Latin America in 1927. He landed in Puerto Rico. My mother, age 10, was taken by her father to the place he landed and she got to see his plane. I don't think she got to see him. Lindbergh also landed on St. Thomas. In fact the place he landed is where the airport is and the beach next to it is called Lindbergh Beach.

In 1967 George Harrison was fined for speeding. Such a wild and crazy guy.

Other people who were born on this day include, Henry VIII, Mel Brooks, Gilda Radner and John Cusack (such a cutie.)

Happy Birthday to us.

Taking Time Off

I'm going to be taking time off from posting for a while and backing off visiting all of your wonderful blogs.

The reason? On July 6th I'll be heading down to the islands and I have things to do between now and then.

Then...once I'm in the islands it's unlikely I'll be doing much on the Internet as I'll be occupied with taking care of my mother and giving my sister the much needed break she deserves.

So, this is to let you know you might not hear from me for a while, like not until after the first week of September.

But do not despair, my faithful Random Followers. I have scheduled blogs for each Monday and Friday while I am away.

Monday's blogs will be fun nonsense and I hope you'll leave your own fun sentence in the comments. Friday's will be something more thoughtful, something to take into the week-end.

There will also be a blog for 6/28 and 7/4. But other than that...

Have a wonderful summer and I'll "see" you in the fall!

Kreativ Blogger Award Xs Two

Brenda over at Hazel's Crock Pot Kitchen, has given me the Kreativ Blogger Award.

THANK YOU BRENDA!

I'm honored and pleased, particularly as this is the second Kreativ Blogger Award I've gotten.

The first one looks like this and was given to me by Adrienne.

As with all things in the blog'o'sphere, there are rules.

1. Thank the person who nominated you for this award. Did that.

2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog. Did that.

3. Link to the person who nominated you for this award. Did that.

4. Name 7 things about yourself that people might find interesting. They are below if you're that curious.

5. Nominate 7 Kreativ Bloggers. Hmmm, did that too.

6. Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate. Did that.

7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs, letting them know they have been nominated. Yep.

OK...so now I have to write seven things about myself people might find interesting. Gosh, if you've been reading my blog you probably know enough already! But here it goes.

1. Due to circumstances beyond my control I graduated from high school late. I was a mere 12 days away from turning 20.

2. I have a pretty extensive record (we're talking vinyl ) collection. Over 500 records, mostly classic rock from the 60s and 70s, but also jazz and classical.

3. I don't listen to much of the music I have.

4. I really, really, really don't like shoes and go barefoot as often as I can.

5. I tat, which is an old form of lace-making. It's made with a shuttle and my fingers. It's really a bunch of knots, half-hitches, to be exact. It was most popular during the Victorian era.

6. I once sang in a jazz trio called Triad.

7. I've been camping, twice, at the Havasupai Indian Reservation (here there be pictures) at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. The first time we flew in by helicopter. The second time we went in by mule and horse.

It was hard to pick just 7 people. But here they are:

MG at MG Higgins because she's new to blogging.

Tricia at Talespinning because I've just starting reading her blog and I like it a lot.

Mary at ResidentAlien because she's such a wonderful story teller with a great sense of humor.

Angela at Angela Cerrito because she likes to share experiences of people from all over the world.

Vijaya at Reading, Writing, Ruminating because she is my first and longest "Internet" friend who has consistently be supportive, helpful and kind. She has given me a good kick in the butt when I needed it too,

Anne at Anne Spollen's Author Blog because I really LOVED her book THE SHAPE OF WATER, and because she's been kind enough to leave comments on my blog!

And last but not least,

CJ over at Courting the Muse deserves it most of all because she is facing surgery to remove cancer and it's most important to pass on the love.

A Father's Day Tribute

Here are all the father's in my family.

Frank Eugene Hartwell, father of my grandmother, Erva Love Hartwell, who married Pual A. Boulon.

Paul Alfred Boulon, father of my mother, Erva Claire.

Peter Haught, father of my great-great grandmother, Sarah Haught who married James T. Miller.

James Thomas Miller, father of my great-grandfather, James Munroe. He looks so much like Dad it's spooky.

James Munroe Miller, father of my grandmother, Sarah Eliza Miller, who married John J Denham.

John J Denham, holding my father, John Stanford Denham. (J was his middle name, no period after the letter.)

Dad, with Curly...on the bottom of the picture my mother (who took the picture) wrote, "Don Juan Denham."


Dad and me in the FDO.

Happy Father's Day everyone!

Sinfully Tagged!

Rena has tagged me with a fun one.

Sometimes you can learn more about a person by what they don’t tell you. Sometimes you can learn a lot from the things they just make up. If you are tagged with this Meme, lie to me. Then tag 7 other folks (one for each deadly sin) and hope they can lie.

Pride -- What is your biggest contribution to the world?
The invention of plastic!

Envy -- What do your coworkers have that you wish was yours?
When I had coworkers I wanted ALL their plastic.

Gluttony -- What did you eat last night?
Fresh caught lobster served on a plastic plate and eaten with plastic utensiles.

Lust -- What really lights your fire?
I loved being rubbed all over in plastic. I like how it makes me sweat.

Anger -- What is the last thing that really pissed you off?
When my family had an intervention and tried to convince me I was addicted to plastic and needed to go to a plastic re-hab. They even had me on Dr. Phil!

Greed -- Name something you hoard and keep from others.
My collection of plastic. It is so wonderfully huge it's starting to spill over into the oceans.

Sloth -- What’s the laziest thing you ever did?
That would the time I made hubby dust my plastic collection.

That was fun.

I now pass this on, in no particular order:
1. Angela Cerrito

2. MG Higgins

3. Vijaya

4. CJ Raymer

5. Mary

6. Tricia

7. Anne

Have fun.

Rena's Book Blog Tour!

My friend Rena Jones is having a book blog tour to promote her NEW BOOK,

A NEW JOB FOR DILLY which has just hit the shelves. She is also having a contest. So hop on over to Rena's and see what all the excitement is about!

Below is the schedule for her blog tour. HIP, HIP HOORAY!

June 21st – Sherrie Petersen
http://solvangsherrie.blogspot.com/

June 22nd – Beth Reinke
http://bethbencereinke.com/blog/

June 23rd – Elysabeth Eldering
http://jgdsseries.blogspot.com/

June 24th – Sharon Spray
http://mamasharonsays.blogspot.com/

June 25th – Adrienne Saldivar
http://a-saldivar.blogspot.com/

June 26th – Nikki Shoemaker
http://www.pinkpencil.blogspot.com/

June 27th – Vivian Zabel
http://vivianzabel.blogspot.com/

The Ones That Didn't Get Away - The Winning Fish

The Fourth of July Fishing Tournament was a yearly three day affair. It was mostly a contest to see who could catch the biggest fish.

In 1966 Dad decided to enter us and the FDO. We were competing against the deep-sea fishing boats, the ones that go out to catch Blue Marlin and Sailfish and Dolphin (not the mammal known as porpoises.)

I think the big boaters kind of snorted at us behind our backs, pointing their figures and snickering at our brazenness. How could a 12 foot boat compete against 50 foot boats? Did we think we could actually make a big catch? How could we, when we were only trolling the shallow coast-lines of St. Thomas and St. John, while they were going 40 miles out to the Puerto Rico Trench (the deepest point in the Atlantic Ocean) and catching world record Blue Marlin? Snicker, snicker, snicker...har, har, har...

Dad, being the captain of our huge luxury yacht, went out all three days. Mom went with him on the first day, Erva on the second, and I went on the third day. Each day we consistently brought in more fish than any of the other boaters. Each day our fish were counted and weighed. I think by the end of the tournament we had brought in more pounds of fish than anyone else.

The crowning touch was this. At the end of day three Dad and I were out between Little and Great St. James. We were getting ready to head back home when we spotted birds diving and fish jumping, a sure sign of a school of fish. We raced through the school at top speed (a trick Dad learned to bring the lure up to the surface so the feeding fish would mistake it for a fry) and I got a strike. When I got it to the boat it turned out to be a nice sized Yellowtail, probably 5 pounds or so .

Dad said, "Let's do that again and see if we can't get another one."

So we zipped through the middle of the school and BANG I got another strike. Only this time I knew it was BIG. I was so busy paying attention to my rod, the star drag, and the line I didn't see this fish leap out of the water and dance on its tail...three times! And, I was already tired, not only from being out in an open boat all day, but I had just landed a Yellowtail, a fish known for it's good fight. Finally I managed to get the thing to the boat.

It turned out to be a barracuda! Now you have to be careful with barracuda. There's no known attack of a person by a barracuda in the water. But out of the water, landed in a boat say, they have been known to snap oars in half and take chunks out of hands, legs, arms or anything that gets in the way of their needle sharp teeth. They get pissed.

Once Dad hauled it into the boat he beat it sounded on the head with a club we kept in on board for just such a purpose. That barracuda was not small. The FDO was about 4 feet wide and the head and tail of that fish curled up at the ends where it lay across the stern. Dad was sure I had a winner.

And I did. I won for catching the biggest fish by a teenage girl angler. That barracuda was 4 feet long and weighed in at 11 1/2 pounds. Below is the newspaper picture of me accepting a string of real pearls. I still have them.

We enjoyed snorting at the big boaters behind their backs. Big is not nescessarily better. Snicker, snicker, snicker, har, har, har!

Oh...and by the way, today is Go Fishing Day.

Good News!

Boys' Quest has an issue coming out in December of 2011 on Motors and Engines. On a lark hubby wrote an article for it. I did a little editing, not much, put it into its proper format, wrote a cover letter and we sent it off.

We got the word yesterday. They have accepted his article! It has the ever so catchy title of, "I Want to Torque to You." So you can guess what the subject matter is about.

My Stan is going to be a published children's author! Too cool!

Yahoo

Old Things

Tricia over at Talespinning shared a picture of a beautiful piece of china hand-painted by her grandmother.

This got me to thinking...

My sister and I are blessed to have many things passed down from our great-grandmothers and from family friends.

Rather than sitting in a cabinet to be seen and never touched, in our family the china, crystal, silver and linen were loved by being used for special occasions like birthdays and holidays. There is a deep emotional connection, visceral, as mouth wraps around fork, as lips touch the rim of a wine glass that was used by someone 50 to 75 years ago. Using it taught my sister and me how to handle and care for it. Erva uses her china on a daily basis.

One of my prize possessions is a near complete luncheon set of Harebell bone-china made by Shelly, an English company no longer in existence. It was given to me by Charlotte.
This picture really doesn't do it justice.


But here, on this "eared" cream-soup bowl, you can see the layers of color; the light and dark blues and greens, the lavenders. The vines and flowers look like a gentle breeze is stirring them.

I can almost see fairies peeking out from behind leaves, swinging from the stems.

I remember when Charlotte would set the lunch table for me and her and Gus. Matching tablecloth and napkins, the Harebell, sterling silver flat-ware. She would let me help. I would carry one plate at a time across the concrete floor from the kitchen to the table. Then we'd sit down to some simple meal like sandwiches and a salad. Afterwards we'd clear the table. Charlotte or Gus washed the dishes, I helped by drying and setting them aside on the counter. When everything was clean Charlotte would put the china back on their open shelves which were too high for me to reach.

We don't live like this any more. We don't take the time to dine, even if the fare is simple. We gobble and bolt. Many of us eat off plastic or paper, in front of the TV. We are losing, maybe even have lost, the ability to set a table and sit together.

Yet food and the process of eating is really the only communal thing all humans do. We have no problem eating out and dining with strangers all around us. In fact, we enjoy it, maybe even need it. I think it's genetic, a caveman thing, from a time when we all had to share in the hunting and gathering and thus shared in the meal. Like animals that share a waterhole, enemies and strangers come together in the presence of food.

Maybe the way to world peace is through our stomachs.

Flag Day

On this day in 1777 the Continental Congress adopted this resolution: "Resolved, That the flag of the United States be made of thirteen stripes, alternate red and white; that the union be thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new Constellation."

As for the colors, white stands for purity and innocence; red, for hardiness and valor; blue for vigilance, perseverance and justice. A new star is added on the 4th of July following the admission of a new state. Alaska, admitted on January 3rd, 1959, had it's star added on July 4th of that year. Hawaii, admitted on August 21st, 1959, had to wait until July 4th, 1960. I remember when the flag went from 49 to 50 stars.

In 1916 President Wilson issued a proclamation asking for June 14th to be observed as National Flag Day. Again, in 1927, President Coolidge asked for the same thing. But it wasn’t until August 3, 1949, that Congress finally got it's act in gear and approved a national observance to be called Flag Day. President Harry Truman signed it into law.

You can learn more about Flag Day here. Go here to learn more about the evolution of the flag.

Saint Eustatius, at the time a Dutch island, claims to be the first place to recognize the flag as representing a sovereign state. "An American merchantman called at Fort Oranje sometime during 1775 or 1776, and the battery at the Fort fired the standard salute due to non-Dutch vessels entering a Dutch port." The date seems early. However, there were many versions of the flag flown before a final design was agreed upon.

A similar thing is said to have happened on St. Criox in the Virgin Islands, which was then own by Denmark. Whether it was same ship or a different one; the same year or later, I don't know. What is neat is that the United States was first recognized as an independent sovereign country by two tiny islands in the Caribbean.

Happy Flag Day!

I'm a Winner! When the Whistle Blows

Angela had a contest: Write a story in 300 words or less. It could be fact or fiction, prose or a poem. The only requirement was it had to have something to do with trains. The prize would be copy of WHEN THE WHISTLE BLOWS by, Fran Cannon Slayton.

My friend Vijaya won a copy too!

Yippee! I've heard great things about this book and I'm looking forward to reading. Thanks Angela, for having the contest. It's been a long time since I thought about my first train ride.

Poems by Rilke

It would be nice to at least be able to read German so I could read his poems in their original form. I wonder what is lost in translation?

Years ago, in my early 20s, I copied several of his poems into a spiral notebook. I did not take note of who the translator was. Something I regret, for in the intervening years I have read other translations of some of the poems I copied and have not liked them quite so well. As an example I have given two versions of one poem. Even the titles are different. The second version is from my notebook.

Entrance

Whoever you are: step out into the evening
out of your living room, where everything is so known;
your house stands as the last thing before great space:
Whoever you are.
With your eyes, which in their fatigue can just barely
free themselves from the worn-out thresholds,very slowly, lift a single black tree
and place it against the sky, slender and alone.
With this you have made the world. And it is large
and like a word that is still ripening in silence.
And, just as your will grasps their meaning,
they in turn will let go, delicately, of your eyes . . .

Initiation

Whoever you are, go out into the evening,
leaving your room, of which you know each bit;
your house is the last before the infinite,
whoever you are.
Then with your eyes that wearily
scare lift themselves from that worn-out door-stone
slowly you raise a shadowy black tree
and fix it on the sky: slender, alone.
And you have made the world (and it shall grow
and ripen as a word, unspoken, still).
When you have grasped its meaning with your will,
then tenderly your eyes will let it go.


Here are two more from my notebook.

Solitude

Solitude is like a rain.
It rises from the sea to meet the evening;
it rises from the dim, far distant plain
toward the sky, as by an old birthright.
And thence falls on the city from the height.

If falls like rain in that gray doubtful hour
when all the streets are turning toward the dawn,
and when those bodies, with all hope foregone
of what they sought, are sorrowfully alone;
and when all men who hate each other, creep
together in on common bed for sleep;

the solitude flows onward with the rivers...


A Woman's Fate

Even as a king out hunting seized a glass,
something to drink from - any glass, no matter -
and someone after that in a sure place
put the slight thing away, to guard it better:

thus destiny, which also has a thirst,
picked up this woman, drank of her till slated,
an afterward some trivial fellow durst
not put her to her use, for fear she break,

and stuck her in that careful cupboard where
one cherishes all costly things and rare
(or things that people fancy have some worth).

And there she stood, as strange as something loaned
slowly growing merely old and blind,
and was not prized and never rare on earth.

Summer and Sand

I've written about Charlotte before. Here she is with a bunch of us kids. I'm sitting on her lap.
Notice I'm the only one who's barefoot.


Charlotte was a long time family friend. She's on the left, with my mother. Mom was about 17 or 18 years old. They are holding doves.



Charlotte, who was several years older than my grandmother, was my first best friend. She had been a Suffragette, had written book reviews for the New York Times, and was their first female poetry editor. She was part of the famous Algonquin Round Table, hanging out with the likes of Dorothy Parker and company.

She introduced my sister and me to books: The Secret Garden, the fairytales of Oscar Wilde, Little Brother and Little Sister (a collection of Grimm fairytales illustrated by Arthur Rackham which was given to her in 1919 and which I have) Irish Fairy Tales by James Stephens and A Doorway to Fairyland by Laurence Housman (I have these books too) to name a few.

She introduced us to music: Gilbert and Sullivan comes immediately to mind, memories of all of us singing along with the H. M. S. Pinafore...

And she introduced us to poetry. Below is probably our all time favorite. It was so true for us, who lived near the ocean, who went almost daily to the beach. And I thought, since summer is almost on us, I'd share it, because some of you might get to (or have been to) the beach and you'd identify with it.

Enjoy.

SEASON AT THE SHORE
by Phyllis McGinley


Oh, not by sun and not by cloud
And not by whippoorwill, crying loud,
And not by the pricking of my thumbs,
Do I know the way that the summer comes.
Yet here on this seagull-haunted strand,
Hers is an omen I understand -
Sand:

Sand on the beaches,
Sand at the door,
Sand that screeches
On the new-swept floor;
In the shower, sand for the foot to crunch on;
Sand in the sandwiches spread for luncheon;
Sand adhesive to son and sibling,
From wallet sifting, from pockets dribbling;
Sand by the beaker
Nightly shed
From odious sneaker;
Sand in bed;
Sahara always in my seaside shanty
Like the sand in the voice
of J. Durante.

Winter is mittens, winter is gaiters
Steaming on various radiators.
Autumn is leaves that bog the broom.
Spring is mud in the living room
Or skates in places one scarcely planned.
But what is summer, her seal in hand?
Sand:

Sand in closets,
Sand on the stair,
Desert deposits
In the parlor chair;
Sand in the halls like the halls of the ocean;
Sand in the soap and the sun-tan lotion;
Stirred in the porridge, tossed on the greens,
Poured from the bottoms of rolled-up jeans;
In the elmy street
On the lawny acre;
Glued to the seat
Of the Studebaker.
Wrapped in the folds of the Wall Street Journal;
Damp sand, dry sand,
Sand eternal.

When I shake my garments at the Lord’s command,
What will I scatter in the Promised Land?
Sand.

A Random Thought

I must be feeling a bit misanthropic, therefore, I need a little poetry.

He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven - by William Butler Yeats

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.


And because it will be a full moon tonight...

To the Moon- by Rainer Maria Rilke

Moon, svelte person,
who makes you pregnant
every month?
And who makes you always
engrossed in your pregnancy
--almost terrestrially?

You attract the blood
of our pubescent virgins.
But what do you mother
twelve times a year?

Shall we raise your light
offspring in ourselves?
Inside me I found a soft
candle decorated with gilt
which I think suits your taste.

Tell Me Why

Today is the 65th anniversary of D-Day.

It is a given that World War II cost more lives than any other war in history. Military and civilian losses vary from 50 to 73 million. Russia bore the brunt with over 23 million lives lost.

99.9% of the time I would say human history is the history of war, conflict, invasion, suppression....From family members to small related clans to world powers, we seem to be all about fighting each other.

Tell me why?

Good-bye Grasshopper

I was shocked, dismayed, horrified, to learn this morning that David Carradine was found dead in Bangkok, Thailand.

I can't believe he killed himself.

My deepest sympathies go out to his family, his friends. Certainly I will miss his slow smile and his kind eyes.

Good-bye little Grasshopper. You will be missed by many.

Flowers

Despite the extended drought there has been enough rain to fool our yard and a few sturdy plants into blooming.

Winecups

Purple Cone Flowers

Red Yucca

Wild Verbena

Blackeyed Susans

Clematis, or Leather Flower

Mealy Blue Sage

Yellow Cone Flowers

Standing Cypress

Rose Campion

Plumbago

Salvia

A little color can go a long way in brightening up the yard. I give all the credit to Stan. He's the one with the green thumb. I admire and gather little bouquets.

Tales of Brave Ulysses - Circumnavigation

The north side of St. John, which faces the Atlantic, is cozy and feels protected because it is ringed round with cays and the larger islands St. Thomas and the British Virgin Islands. The north side is greener, lusher and the hills rise from numerous inviting powdery white sand beaches.

Cruz Bay, St. John. St Thomas to the far right, Little and Great St. James center and Steven's Cay towards the front.

Hawksnest Bay, St. John. St. Thomas in distance.

Maho Bay, St. John. Whistling Cay to the far left and behind it, Jost Van Dyke, BVI.

From Annaberg, looking across Sir Francis Drake Channel towards Totola and the British Virgin Islands.

The south side of the island is a completely different story. Here you are faced with the wide open expanse of the Caribbean Sea. Here there are no cays and the nearest island is St. Croix, 40 miles away. Though the water tends to be warmer because the Caribbean is shallower than the Atlantic, it can be rougher. Because the south side is so exposed to the Tradewinds it is very desert-like. Giant century plants, thorny acacia trees, tall organ cactus, and many other cacti as well, cling to the rocky hill sides. And, except for a few beaches, the coast line is rocky, protected by snarly reefs.

Now the F. D. O. was small, only 12 feel long and yet we made several heroic journeys within her fiberglass hull.

Twice we went completely around St. John, a distance of 40 or 45 miles. We were very familiar with the cozy north shore. Many were the times we had trolled around the cays of Lovango, Congo, Mingo, Grass, Thatch, Little and Great St. James, to name a few. These water were home. There are places to land, beaches to explore. And there is water traffic. Boats of every sort cruise the north side of St. John. Ferries cross hourly between St. John and St. Thomas, there are speed boats and sail boats and fisherman. You have the feeling that if something were to happen help isn't be too far away.

But once we rounded East End and passed Flanagan Island, we were alone on a vast sea. We were like solitary explorers, cast-aways searching for a place to land.

We were Jason and the Argonauts. We were Ulysses and his valiant crew. When at last we passed by Chocolate Hole and Great Cruz Bay, saw the islands of Little and Great St. James and Steven's Cay, we knew we were safely home again. We had survived an epic.

The south side of St. John. The white cliffs of Reef Bay and in the distance Ram's Head Point.

Lamashur is one of the few beaches on the south side, and one of my favorites. There is a lonely and wild feel about the place.

We circumnavigated St. Thomas in the F. D. O too. A long journey, of 50 to 55 miles. Surely we were crew on Magellan's ship.